Singly across the sylvan shadows, one
Remembrance back of every good deed done.
Eager to view and one to ‘scape the sun,
From whence its name of Lethe on this part;
So mov’d she on, against the current, up
On th’ other Eunoe: both of which must first
The verdant rivage. I, her mincing step
Be tasted ere it work; the last exceeding
Observing, with as tardy step pursued.
All flavours else. Albeit thy thirst may now
Between us not an hundred paces trod,
Be well contented, if I here break off,
The bank, on each side bending equally,
No more revealing: yet a corollary
Gave me to face the orient. Nor our way
I freely give beside: nor deem my words
Far onward brought us, when to me at once
Less grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass
She turn’d, and cried: “My brother! look and hearken.”
The stretch of promise. They, whose verse of yore
And lo! a sudden lustre ran across
The golden age recorded and its bliss,
Through the great forest on all parts, so bright
On the Parnassian mountain, of this place
I doubted whether lightning were abroad;
Perhaps had dream’d. Here was man guiltless, here
But that expiring ever in the spleen,
Perpetual spring and every fruit, and this
That doth unfold it, and this during still
The far-fam’d nectar.” Turning to the bards,
And waxing still in splendor, made me question
When she had ceas’d, I noted in their looks
What it might be: and a sweet melody
A smile at her conclusion; then my face
Ran through the luminous air. Then did I chide
Again directed to the lovely dame.
With warrantable zeal the hardihood
Of our first parent, for that there were earth
CANTO XXIX
Stood in obedience to the heav’ns, she only,
Woman, the creature of an hour, endur’d not
83
The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Restraint of any veil: which had she borne
“Hosanna.” Above, their beauteous garniture
Devoutly, joys, ineffable as these,
Flam’d with more ample lustre, than the moon
Had from the first, and long time since, been mine.
Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.
While through that wilderness of primy sweets
I turn’d me full of wonder to my guide;
That never fade, suspense I walk’d, and yet
And he did answer with a countenance
Expectant of beatitude more high,
Charg’d with no less amazement: whence my view
Before us, like a blazing fire, the air
Reverted to those lofty things, which came
Under the green boughs glow’d; and, for a song,
So slowly moving towards us, that the bride
Distinct the sound of melody was heard.
Would have outstript them on her bridal day.
O ye thrice holy virgins! for your sakes
The lady called aloud: “Why thus yet burns
If e’er I suffer’d hunger, cold and watching,
Affection in thee for these living, lights,
Occasion calls on me to crave your bounty.
And dost not look on that which follows them?”
Now through my breast let Helicon his stream
I straightway mark’d a tribe behind them walk, Pour copious; and Urania with her choir
As if attendant on their leaders, cloth’d
Arise to aid me: while the verse unfolds
With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth
Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought.
Was never. On my left, the wat’ry gleam
Onward a space, what seem’d seven trees of gold, Borrow’d, and gave me back, when there I look’d.
The intervening distance to mine eye
As in a mirror, my left side portray’d.
Falsely presented; but when I was come
When I had chosen on the river’s edge
So near them, that no lineament was lost
Such station, that the distance of the stream
Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen
Alone did separate me; there I stay’d
Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense,
My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld
Then did the faculty, that ministers
The flames go onward, leaving, as they went,
Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold
The air behind them painted as with trail
Distinguish, and it th’ singing trace the sound
Of liveliest pencils! so distinct were mark’d
84
The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory All those sev’n listed colours, whence the sun
From him departing, John accords with me.
Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone.
The space, surrounded by the four, enclos’d
These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond
A car triumphal: on two wheels it came
My vision; and ten paces, as I guess,
Drawn at a Gryphon’s neck; and he above
Parted the outermost. Beneath a sky
Stretch’d either wing uplifted, ‘tween the midst
So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders,
And the three listed hues, on each side three;
By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown’d.
So that the wings did cleave or injure none;
All sang one song: “Blessed be thou among
And out of sight they rose. The members, far
The daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness
As he was bird, were golden; white the rest
Blessed for ever!” After that the flowers,
With vermeil intervein’d. So beautiful
And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink,
A car in Rome ne’er grac’d Augustus pomp,
Were free from that elected race; as light
Or Africanus’: e’en the sun’s itself
In heav’n doth second light, came after them
Were poor to this, that chariot of the sun
Four animals, each crown’d with verdurous leaf.
Erroneous, which in blazing ruin fell
With six wings each was plum’d, the plumage full
At Tellus’ pray’r devout, by the just doom
Of eyes, and th’ eyes of Argus would be such,
Mysterious of all-seeing Jove. Three nymphs
Were they endued with life. Reader, more rhymes
,k the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance;
Will not waste in shadowing forth their form:
The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce
For other need no straitens, that in this
Been known within a furnace of clear flame:
I may not give my bounty room. But read
The next did look, as if the flesh and bones
Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north
Were emerald: snow new-fallen seem’d the third.
How he beheld them come by Chebar’s flood,
Now seem’d the white to lead, the ruddy now;
In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such
And from her song who led, the others took
As thou shalt find them character’d by him,
Their treasure, swift or slow. At th’ other wheel,
Here were they; save as to the pennons; there,
A band quaternion, each in purple clad,
85
The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgator
y Advanc’d with festal step, as of them one
The rest conducted, one, upon whose front
CANTO XXX
Three eyes were seen. In rear of all this group,
Soon as the polar light, which never knows
Two old men I beheld, dissimilar
Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil
In raiment, but in port and gesture like,
Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament
Solid and mainly grave; of whom the one
Of the first heav’n, to duty each one there
Did show himself some favour’d counsellor
Safely convoying, as that lower doth
Of the great Coan, him, whom nature made
The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix’d;
To serve the costliest creature of her tribe.
Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van
His fellow mark’d an opposite intent,
Between the Gryphon and its radiance came,
Bearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge,
Did turn them to the car, as to their rest:
E’en as I view’d it with the flood between,
And one, as if commission’d from above,
Appall’d me. Next four others I beheld,
In holy chant thrice shorted forth aloud:
Of humble seeming: and, behind them all,
“Come, spouse, from Libanus!” and all the rest
One single old man, sleeping, as he came,
Took up the song—At the last audit so
With a shrewd visage. And these seven, each
The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each
Like the first troop were habited, hut wore
Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh,
No braid of lilies on their temples wreath’d.
As, on the sacred litter, at the voice
Rather with roses and each vermeil flower,
Authoritative of that elder, sprang
A sight, but little distant, might have sworn,
A hundred ministers and messengers
That they were all on fire above their brow.
Of life eternal. “Blessed thou! who com’st!”
Whenas the car was o’er against me, straight.
And, “O,” they cried, “from full hands scatter ye
Was heard a thund’ring, at whose voice it seem’d
Unwith’ring lilies;” and, so saying, cast
The chosen multitude were stay’d; for there,
Flowers over head and round them on all sides.
With the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.
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The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory I have beheld, ere now, at break of day,
Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire:”
The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky
But Virgil had bereav’d us of himself,
Oppos’d, one deep and beautiful serene,
Virgil, my best-lov’d father; Virgil, he
And the sun’s face so shaded, and with mists
To whom I gave me up for safety: nor,
Attemper’d at lids rising, that the eye
All, our prime mother lost, avail’d to save
Long while endur’d the sight: thus in a cloud
My undew’d cheeks from blur of soiling tears.
Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,
“Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay, And down, within and outside of the car,
Weep thou not yet: behooves thee feel the edge
Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath’d,
Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that.”
A virgin in my view appear’d, beneath
As to the prow or stern, some admiral
Green mantle, rob’d in hue of living flame:
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,
And o’er my Spirit, that in former days
When ‘mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof;
Within her presence had abode so long,
Thus on the left side of the car I saw,
No shudd’ring terror crept. Mine eyes no more
(Turning me at the sound of mine own name,
Had knowledge of her; yet there mov’d from her
Which here I am compell’d to register)
A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak’d,
The virgin station’d, who before appeared
The power of ancient love was strong within me.
Veil’d in that festive shower angelical.
No sooner on my vision streaming, smote
Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes; The heav’nly influence, which years past, and e’en
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound
In childhood, thrill’d me, than towards Virgil I
With foliage of Minerva, suffer’d not
Turn’d me to leftward, panting, like a babe,
That I beheld her clearly; then with act
That flees for refuge to his mother’s breast,
Full royal, still insulting o’er her thrall,
If aught have terrified or work’d him woe:
Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back
And would have cried: “There is no dram of blood,
The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
That doth not quiver in me. The old flame
“Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am
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The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign’d at last
“Virgin, why so consum’st him?” then the ice,
Approach the mountain? knewest not, O man!
Congeal’d about my bosom, turn’d itself
Thy happiness is whole?” Down fell mine eyes
To spirit and water, and with anguish forth
On the clear fount, but there, myself espying,
Gush’d through the lips and eyelids from the heart.
Recoil’d, and sought the greensward: such a weight
Upon the chariot’s right edge still she stood, Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien
Immovable, and thus address’d her words
Of that stern majesty, which doth surround
To those bright semblances with pity touch’d:
mother’s presence to her awe-struck child,
“Ye in th’ eternal day your vigils keep,
She look’d; a flavour of such bitterness
So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,
Was mingled in her pity. There her words
Conveys from you a single step in all
Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang:
The goings on of life: thence with more heed
“In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:”
I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,
But went no farther than, “Thou Lord, hast set
Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now
My feet in ample room.” As snow, that lies
May equal the transgression. Not alone
Amidst the living rafters on the back
Through operation of the mighty orbs,
Of Italy congeal’d when drifted high
That mark each seed to some predestin’d aim,
And closely pil’d by rough Sclavonian blasts,
As with aspect or fortunate or ill
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,
The constellations meet, but through benign
And straightway melting it distils away,
Largess of heav’nly graces, which rain down
Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,
From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man
Without a sigh or tear, or ever these
Was in the freshness of his being, such,
Did sing, that with the chiming of heav’n’s sphere, So gifted virtually, that in him
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Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain
All better habits wond’rously had thriv’d.
Of dulcet symphony, express’d for me
The more of kindly strength is in the soil,
Their soft compassion, more than could the words
So much doth evil seed and lack of culture
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The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
These looks sometime upheld him; for I show’d
CANTO XXXI
My youthful eyes, and led him by their light
“O Thou!” her words she thus without delay
In upright walking. Soon as I had reach’d
Resuming, turn’d their point on me, to whom
The threshold of my second age, and chang’d
They but with lateral edge seem’d harsh before,
My mortal for immortal, then he left me,
‘Say thou, who stand’st beyond the holy stream,
And gave himself to others. When from flesh
If this be true. A charge so grievous needs
To spirit I had risen, and increase
Thine own avowal.” On my faculty
Of beauty and of virtue circled me,
Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir’d
I was less dear to him, and valued less.
Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.
His steps were turn’d into deceitful ways,
A little space refraining, then she spake:
Following false images of good, that make
“What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave
No promise perfect. Nor avail’d me aught
On thy remembrances of evil yet
To sue for inspirations, with the which,
Hath done no injury.” A mingled sense
I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,
Of fear and of confusion, from my lips
Did call him back; of them so little reck’d him,
Did such a “Yea” produce, as needed help
Such depth he fell, that all device was short
Of vision to interpret. As when breaks
Of his preserving, save that he should view
In act to be discharg’d, a cross-bow bent
The children of perdition. To this end
Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o’erstretch’d, I visited the purlieus of the dead:
The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark;
And one, who hath conducted him thus high,
Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst
Receiv’d my supplications urg’d with weeping.
Beneath the heavy load, and thus my voice